


Snow

by Different_frequency



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Bratty Reader With No Common Sense, Breathplay, Choking, F/M, Female Reader, Frottage, Inappropriate Use of Heat Signatures, Light Dom/sub, Mando'a, Naked Female Clothed Male, No use of y/n, POV Third Person Limited, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Predicament Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Shameless Smut, Smut, Someone spilled feels in my smut, Spanking, Teasing, The Helmet Stays On, Touch-Starved, Vaginal Fingering, staying warm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23668279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Different_frequency/pseuds/Different_frequency
Summary: “Teases always get what they deserve.” His voice is a growl in your ear and you can’t breathe for a moment. Your theory about common-sense failure must be right, because you reply before your brain can run a safety scan.“Promise?”
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 92
Kudos: 753





	1. Freezing

**Author's Note:**

> What up y'all I've been trying to practice writing more smut so this was a 24 hour challenge to myself. It's currently written so more can be added depending on the response from folks. Thanks to SRed and Maggie_GoldenStar1530 for the sanity checks.

The snow is definitely picking up. 

She adjusts her headlamp and curses, shifting from one numb foot to the other. Her bare fingers curl around the spanner, feeling frozen solid. She's kept one glove on, but it's just not possible to make the minute adjustments necessary in the electrical panel to coax the _Crest_ ’s power systems back online with a glove on. A gust of wind almost topples her and she scrabbles at the sleek paneling of the hull for balance. 

“J-just fuckin’ w-work, _please_.” She begs the dead wiring as she begins cycling through yet another circuit system. At this point she's playing fast and loose with electrical safety, but her logic is that at least she’ll get some warmth if she's electrocuted. Add to that the fact that she knows the kid’s internal temperature isn’t set to deal with _fuckin’ icebox_ and she's determined to stay out here until they either get some systems back online or she turns into a human icepop. In the meantime, her hatred for the ancient wiring systems that go out at the slightest jostle (and certainly in the trip through the asteroid belt next door to this iceball) will just have to keep her warm. 

She doesn’t see the light bobbing across the snow, now piled halfway up the landing gear of the ship, until it’s sliding over the open panel. 

“Any luck?” The Mandalorian asks from just behind her right shoulder. 

“N-not y-yet.” She stutters. “He-hey, c-can you sh-shine tha-that li-light m-more h-here?” She tries to ignore how much her gloved hand shakes as she points to the latest circuitry she's trying to resuscitate. He obliges and steps closer to her. As she returns to her careful examination of wiring, she appreciates the hell out of the wind block he’s unintentionally creating. 

“Why aren’t you wearing a glove?” His voice is incredulous but otherwise steady, and she wonders if he has some kind of temp control in there to keep warmer. _Bastard probably has hot pads in that damn armor_. 

“C-can’t adj-just the s-sensitivit-ty of the s-spanner with a gl-glove on.” She replies, nose burning now with the cold. She inhales sharply as a spark pops on the circuit board. “Please please please” she whispers under her breath, adjusts the spanner just a hair further. A whiff of ozone crackles in the air and the circuit hums to life. “ _Yes_.” She hisses and turns her head triumphantly to the beskar helmet over her shoulder. 

“Your lips are blue.” He replies. “That’s enough for tonight. Come inside.” He slides the cover panel back over it as soon as her hand is out of the small cavity, effectively cutting off her work. 

“N-no arguments t-there. I think you c-could break my t-toes off in one big b-block at this point.” She says, following the trail he leaves through the waist-deep snow back to the ramp. Her pants are covered with snow that she knows will quickly melt through and soak them, but she's got no intention of keeping these clothes on. Mando stamps his boots to remove the snow from them as he walks up the ramp, and closes the door once she staggers on board, legs feeling more like tree stumps than limbs. 

“Give me that.” He reaches out for the spanner in her still-uncovered left hand. She tries to uncurl her fingers from it and stares stupidly at them when they ignore her command. Mando sighs and gently pries it from her grasp. “Your core temperature’s way too low. You should go change into something dry.” 

She manages to make it to the small bunk where she keeps her clothing and pulls down the warmest leggings and undershirt and sweater she's got before retreating to the refresher. Every action feels like it takes so much effort, and she's vaguely aware that her entire body is trembling, her hands worst of all. 

As she pulls her boots off, sharp pins and needles shoot through her feet and she bites back a groan. Maker it’s been awhile since she was this cold, she's forgotten how much the thawing _hurts_. She drags her now soaking clothes off, shivering hard, and rejects the idea of rubbing life back into her limbs in favor of pulling on the warm clean clothes as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, her body doesn’t seem to appreciate the effort, and is making a valiant effort of convincing her that she's still out in the snow. Gathering up the wet clothes and boots, she stumbles back out into the body of the ship. She dumps the pile next to her bunk, neglecting her normally tidy habits in favor of pulling the blanket off her bed and wrapping it around herself. Making a beeline for the heating extake in the inner corner of the cargo bay, she sits directly in front of it, teeth chattering. 

Boots sound on the decking behind her and a second later the Mandalorian shoves a blanket-wrapped bundle into her arms, two black eyes barely visible inside the swaddling. 

“Hey, li-little man.” She whispers, and wraps him in her blanket as well, drawing him up to her chest so the weak flow of warm air blows over him. He makes a small noise of discomfort and she rubs her free hand along where she's guessing his back is, trying to generate some heat. A heavy weight falls over her shoulders. Looking back, she sees Mando adjusting another blanket over her shoulders. 

“Th-thanks.” She chatters, unsure whether the pins and needles of her limbs reawakening or the feeling of wearing the equivalent of thick paper in a snowstorm is more uncomfortable. She thinks he’s done, but then he reaches up and fiddles with something under his chestplate. A moment later, he’s pulling his own cloak off and wrapping that around her and the kid as well. It’s warm and thick and she's slightly jealous that he had this on outside but she also know he must be cold too, heating elements in his armor or not. “Y-you won’t be c-co-cold?” 

“I’m fine.” He says shortly, but she can already see his shoulders hunch slightly with the loss of warmth across them. People always underestimate how much every layer means when it’s this cold. She'd grown up on a planet where the snow lay thick for at least four months out of the year, she knows that layers are what save you. 

“C’mere.” She pats the deck next to her. It’s not much warmer than the rest of the ship, but the kid is already starting to emerge slightly from his cocoon in the flow from the vent so she knows it’s worth _something_. Her body hasn’t caught up with the temperature yet, though she feels like she's shivering marginally less. She cranes her neck to look back at him, and he’s hesitating like he does when he’s thinking. “C’mon, it’s f-freezing. You can d-donate some b-body heat to the c-cause.” He dithers for another moment before he comes to sit next to her, one knee up and the other against the floor. He reaches over to tug the kid’s blankets more securely up over those big ears and adjust his cloak around her shoulders.

“Your lips are still blue.” He says quietly. She can see him unconsciously leaning into the flow of warm air from the vent. It’s probably tepid at best, but at this point it feels like a warm campfire on her numb fingers and face. She scoots over an inch, giving up some of the space directly in front of the flow, which she feels is extremely gracious. Again, Mando hesitates. She pinches a fold in his trousers at the knee and tugs lightly. 

“You’re gonna have t-to get c-closer to contribute any heat.” He shifts to fill the space between her and Maker, he _is_ warm under that armor. Or at least, warmer than she is. “Jeez, y-you should probably be holding the k-kid.” 

Mando looks down at the bundle clutched to her chest with just a sliver of green and an eye showing now. 

“No, he’s warmer with you.” 

She leans into Mando slightly, unable to resist the draw of his body heat. He stiffens for a minute before relaxing and puts an arm around her to rub briskly along her back. “You shouldn’t have stayed out there so long. Especially with no winter clothes and only one glove on.” He shakes his head. “Not a smart move.” 

Tossing the illusion of dignity out in the snow, she scoots so she's tucked up under his arm and shoves her face into the fabric between his shoulder and neck. 

“My momma always did say I don’t have the s-sense the Maker gave a jar of jam.” She says, her body starting to relax incrementally as he brings his other arm up to continue to try and chafe some warmth into her. “Besides, had to get something back online,” she mumbles into the coarse weave of his flak vest, “otherwise we would’ve all frozen out here. I’ll fix the rest tomorrow.” 

She knows she's starting to fall asleep, but she can’t quite find it in herself to care. If he doesn’t want her on him, he can shift her off and onto the deck. She makes an effort to tell him as much, but she's not sure the message makes it from her brain into coherent words. Either way, she gets an answering rumble of sound from him and figures that’s good enough for now. 

* * * * * * *

She wakes up absolutely freezing again, on her side now and still wrapped in blankets and cloak. A small whine comes from the bundle in her arms and a very cold button nose presses into her neck. She instinctively curls tighter around the kid and sits up, her muscles cold and stiff. She doesn’t see Mando anywhere, and the ship is dark. The vent next to them is silent, and even the flow of tepid air has stopped. There’s a grinding sound from the other side of the bay and the door cracks open, letting in a gust of frigid air and a swirl of snow. She yelps and turns away from the cold, huddling around the kid. A second later the door closes and she turns back at the sound of booted feet on the deck. Mando’s got his helmet light on again, but otherwise the bay is still dark. 

“What happened?” She manages sleepily. 

“Power cut out again.” His voice is rough, and she squints in the near darkness but can’t make out anything behind his helmet light. “Tried to fix it but...” She can almost hear his teeth chatter under the helmet.

“Alright.” She says, shifting to lean back against the bulkhead, the kid’s face still tucked into the warmth of her neck. “Okay. Do we have anything else we can use to stay warm? Or at least keep the little guy warm?” She runs a hand across his back, feeling him start to shiver even through all the layers. 

The light on Mando’s helmet moves over to the fresher and he rummages around for the medpack in it. Backlit, she can see that he’s got no cloak on, just his armor. _He must be fucking freezing_. He pulls out a folded square and shoves the medpack back into its slot before coming over to her. She stands up and uses one hand to pull his heavy cloak off her shoulders, holding it out. 

“Here, you need this.” He looks over. 

“Keep it. I’m fine.” 

“You’re not, I can see you shivering.” She can, but only in his hands and arms. The rest of him is still in darkness. She tries to lay it one-handed over his shoulder, rising to her toes to reach. He sighs but takes it from her and secures it with quick, practiced motions before going back to unfolding the square item in his hand into a flat sheet. It’s a small emergency blanket with heating elements running through it. It’s also big enough for maybe one small person.  
  
“That’ll work for the kid.” She says, small shivers starting again with the loss of one of her precious layers. Mando cracks the chemical seal on the heating elements and shakes the blanket open. She gingerly pulls the little guy away from her body and he grumbles. Mando swaddles the kid in the warming blanket, he’s gotten good at the technique in the past couple months, and soon the little guy is wrapped up snug, ears tucked carefully in. He snuggles into the blanket and she's relieved to see his shivers stop. 

Mando takes the kid over to his pod and gently tucks him into it, with an old cloak of his padding it further. Between the chemical heat of the blanket and the insulation in the closed pod, it’s easily the warmest place for the kid right now.

She lets out a long breath. “Alright. There’s one of us taken care of.” She turns to look at her bunk with its thin layer of padding between her body and the steel body of the ship. She would generously call it a mattress pad on a warm day but at this point that was a serious stretch. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like there’s another option and she starts to pull the second blanket off her shoulders to hand back, figuring Mando probably pulled it from his own bunk. The cold immediately sinks its teeth in and she hunches over slightly. 

“Here, you’re gonna need this too.” She shuffles back over to hand him the blanket, reaching one hand up to keep her last remaining layer of precious warmth from slipping. 

“You’re going to freeze down here.” He says, ignoring her outstretched bundle. 

She shrugs. “I’ll be fine. Not really a lot of options anyway.” Eager to get her hand back under the blanket and resigned to a very cold night, she pushes his blanket at him. 

He finally reaches out to take it but cocks his head to the side.

“What?” She asks, too tired to play guessing games.

Mando sighs and takes the blanket from her. "Come on.” He moves towards the ladder to the cockpit, touching a few buttons on his vambrace so the pod follows him. 

“Wha--cockpit isn’t going to be any warmer with all that transparisteel, Mando.” 

“Not going to the cockpit.” Is all he says as he swings himself up the ladder, the pod following. 

_Then where_ …

She shakes her head but follows him up the ladder’s icy rungs. Just about any plan he might have is likely better than her current plan to freeze solid. 

Instead of making his usual straight path to the pilot’s chair, Mando steps around the hatch and the door behind it opens. She knows from the blueprints she's seen that the gunship has a small captain’s quarters behind the cockpit, but in the three months she's been on the _Crest_ she's never seen the door open, or seen him enter or exit. 

She hesitates at the doorway, blanket tightly rewrapped around herself. Something feels a little wrong about going into the room, _his_ room. This is the only place on the ship where he probably takes his helmet off regularly. Mando looks around to see her in the doorway, and she squints into the bright light. 

“You can come in.” He says. She steps into the small room gingerly, still not entirely comfortable even with the invitation. There's a bed, _a proper bed_ , narrow but unquestionably more bedlike than the sorry excuse down in the bay, and not much else in the narrow slant of light.

“So--” She starts, and then stops, unsure of what she'd even be about to ask. _Do I take the floor? Do I take the bed? Do we share?_ Secretly she's rooting for the last one, out of what is very much nothing more than a solid set of survival instincts. 

“Usually stays warmer up here.” Mando says, and she thinks maybe she can hear just a touch of awkwardness in his voice now. Neither of them say anything and the silence stretches like a living thing between them. 

_Alright, my turn then_. 

“I’ll take the floor.” She says, taking a step forward. 

Mando shifts. “No, that’s not--I can take the floor.” 

_Yeah right._ “It’s your room, Mando. I’m not taking your bed.” She starts towards the empty corner to her right when he reaches out to stop her. 

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” He’s using his Command voice now, the same tone he uses when he tells bounties not to bother running or to cuff themselves or to stop squirming. And just like it does when she hears him use it on them, it makes her heart skip a beat and something stirs in her belly. She turns slowly back to him. 

“We could just--you know--share. Probably stay warmer that way.” She cringes internally as she says the words, unable to see anything behind the helmet lamplight. He’s silent for a minute, almost like he’s the one who froze outside. Finally the light dips once as he nods and she slides out of his grip and around him. The light turns with her, he’s following her. In front of the bed, _his bed_ , she stops and turns around, her courage draining away. 

“How d’you want to…” She trails off. She's not a fan of how she can’t see shit right now. Normally she's at least got his body language to go off of but right now she's got nothing and it’s _nervewracking_. 

“Get warm, I’ll be there in a minute.” He says. She dumps her blanket on top of the one on the bed (secretly she's surprised he’s got three, count ‘em, _three_ blankets on the ship) and slips in between the sheets as quickly as possible. Her teeth chatter slightly at the cold, and she's momentarily sorry that she didn’t let him get in first to warm the place up. She takes pity on him though, and begins moving her legs around to try and generate enough friction to warm the sheets up. 

“What’re you doing?” He asks, turning back to her. Now that the light is across the room from her, she can see that he’s taking off his armor and she's intrigued. I mean, sure, it makes sense because the metal probably isn’t comfortable to sleep in and is probably cold at this point but even _so_. It strikes her that he asked her something. 

“What?” 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Oh. Warming it up. It’s freezing.” She continues moving her legs across the frigid sheets, and throw some arms into it as well. It’s _nice_ to have a bed that’s big enough to move more than two inches to either side and not whack her elbow into a bulkhead. Sadly, she's just about certain that she can't convince Mando to trade with her. Plus, she's one hundred percent certain that he wouldn’t even fit in her bunk. She can’t help the snort of laughter as she imagines him trying to get comfortable in full armor on her bunk, lower legs inevitably hanging out over the deck. 

The light across the room turns off abruptly and she stops her movements, eyes searching the blackness pointlessly. She feels another weight drop on top of her and figures he must’ve thrown his cloak over the two other blankets. 

“Something funny?” He says, a lot closer than she's expecting, and she squeaks in surprise. 

“Uh. No. Nothing.” She says, and then she feel something pat the edge of the mattress. She reaches out in that direction and yanks her hand back when it meets cool, bare skin. 

“Move over.” He says, and she can hear that he must still have the helmet on because his voice is still that modulated, gravelly tone. She obligingly shifts over towards the bulkhead and the mattress dips as he settles down next to her, bringing a wave of chilly air with him as he lifts the blankets. 

Then there’s a very warm, very solid form with broad shoulders pressed up to her. Turning onto her side to make more room for Mando, she squirms a bit closer as she tries to tuck the blankets behind her. It takes a few awkward minutes of fidgeting and murmured apologies until they both finally find a comfortable position. She's tucked against his side, his arm under her neck and her head resting on his chest. She starts to sling her arm over his stomach but thinks more wisely of it at the last moment and keeps it folded at her side. 

The heat he’s giving off feels like she's sinking into a hot bath and she wiggles a little closer, earning a grunt in response. It's silent for a few minutes, the sound of the storm outside only audible in the heaviest gusts. She can feel the tension Mando’s still holding in his body, and she's sure that this is not what he’s used to or comfortable with. She's also sure that this would never happen if the alternative hadn’t been losing the only available mechanic within 200 clicks to frostbite. She tries to think of anything to say to settle him, reassure him that she's not reading more into this than she should (because she's definitely not). Nothing good comes to mind. 

“Thanks.” She says finally, the word barely above a whisper. “Sorry I couldn’t fix it tonight. Promise, first thing in the morning I’ll get it worked out.” 

He squeezes her lightly. “You did fine. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

She should be tired, now that she's finally warm again, but somehow she is absolutely wired. Couldn’t be anything to do with being pressed up against the man she's had the most well-hidden crush on for the last month. Especially when he smells so damn good and there's the outline of firm muscles against her cheek and-- _Down, girl_. 

“You gonna think that loud all night?” Mando asks, and the edge of his helmet brushes across her hair as he looks down at her. 

“Sorry. Just...thinking about work I gotta do on the mainframe tomorrow.” She can feel herself blushing at the weak excuse and she's extremely grateful that it’s as dark as it is. 

Mando’s voice is dry. “Mhm. You know you’re a terrible liar, right?” 

She ducks her head a bit lower and swallow. His fingers are tracing a pattern along her back now and it’s making it progressively more difficult to focus on anything, in particular sleep. He shifts slightly and the movement of his hip against hers makes her squeeze her eyes closed. She knows his helmet has a heads-up display with heat signatures, and at this point the heat between her thighs has got to be like a fucking Canto Bight casino sign. He repeats the shift of his leg and her eyes fly open with a realization. _This little shit is doing this on purpose_. 

She can only really think of one way to be sure if he’s actually rubbing his thigh against her or if she's just suffering delusions from extended exposure to the cold. Holding her breath, she slips her arm across his lower stomach and curls her hand over his hip. As if he was waiting for it, his hand comes up to grip her wrist and his thigh shifts more firmly between her legs. 

_Well, okay then._

She lets her hand slide across the soft material of his baselayer pants and presses her thumb into the hollow beside his hip bone. The pressure draws a slight jolt from him and he tightens his fingers around her wrist. She allows herself a grin and rolls her hips against him, letting her legs open just slightly as she does to increase the friction where she needs it most.

“You sure you want to start this?” His voice is husky and she feels a shiver that’s got nothing to do with the sub-zero storm outside run down her spine. The hand around her back slides down to squeeze her ass and a breathless laugh escapes her. This is _not_ how she thought tonight was going to go. But just then a thought pops into her mind and she spreads her fingers out on his hip, lifting her head as she does. 

“The kid. Should we...?” He turns his helmet to look towards where the little man’s closed pod hovers in the corner. He sighs. 

“Can you face the bulkhead?” Mando asks. 

“Sure.” She turns and puts her hands over her face for good measure. Behind her, she feels Mando slide out from under the covers and hears him move across the room and the door slides open. For just a second she has an insane urge to peek behind her but she fights the temptation by squeezing her eyelids more tightly shut and pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. The door slides shut again with a clicking sound and then cold air raises goosebumps on her as Mando slips back under the covers. 

She gasps when he reaches out to pull her back flush against his chest, just the few minutes he was out of the covers and he’s _cold_ again. The gasp turns into a yelp when he tucks his helmet in the soft spot between her neck and shoulder. 

“ _Maker_ , that’s freezing! Stop it!” She slaps weakly at his arm but she just gets a chuckle from under the helmet. 

“May I remind you that this is _my_ bed.” He says, a teasing note in his voice. 

“Hey, I tried to take the floor and--” She replies, trying to sound indignant and mostly sounding breathless. 

“And you would’ve been an icicle by morning.” he finishes smoothly, one hand wandering down her side. Cold fingers slip under the hem of her sweater and she inhales sharply. An idea forming in her mind, she presses one hand over his and into the warmth of her hip, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Keep that there.” She says, taking his left hand between hers. She bends her head down to her hands and breathes out slowly over the cold skin. Mando goes oddly still behind her as she rotates his hand gently, blowing steady breaths of warm air over his fingers. His other hand grips her hip more tightly when her lips brush his fingertips or knuckles once or twice (an understandable accident). 

They tighten to a painful pressure when she presses an open-mouthed kiss to the center of his palm (slightly less of an understandable accident) and she straightens her head. 

“Better?” She asks sweetly. It’s like the cold shut down all common sense and left only the parts of her that would push the envelope. 

“Teases always get what they deserve.” His voice is a growl in her ear and she can’t breathe for a moment. Her theory about common-sense failure must be right, because she replies before her brain can run a safety scan. 

“Promise?” 

Quick as a snake, Mando’s right hand slides up to her breast and squeezes roughly. A small whimper escapes her lips as callused fingers pinch her nipple. 

“This isn’t a game, little one.” His voice is rough but she's bold now, arching her back against him and pushing her chest further into his hand. His other arm tightens across her hips. 

She can feel the icy planes of his helmet against her neck and she lets her hand drift up behind her and back to his shoulder. “You sure about that?” She's still got that teasing tone in her voice, though some intelligent part of her is telling her that this is not a good idea. 

“Quiet.” His right hand slides up under her sweater to her throat, curling his fingers around the narrow column of it. She makes it easy for him, tipping her head back slightly against the pillow. He turns his head as if he can see the same hands he’s killed with around her throat, and she realizes with a jolt that he probably _can_ see it with the helmet’s display. 

Well now isn’t _that_ something. 

Liquid heat pools in her core now, and she grinds back on the muscled thigh that’s shoved between her legs. She groans a second later when Mando uses his grip on her throat to pull her head back. Her back is arched in a sharp bow and he grinds his thigh up into her sensitive heat _hard_. She moans and he tightens his grip until it cuts the sound off. 

“Stay quiet, little one. Kid’s just outside the door.” He whispers close and there's a sinful smile in his voice. He’s going to make this difficult on her. He lifts her enough to shift the hand not on her throat down further and slides it under the waistband of her leggings. 

“You want me to touch you, sweet girl?” 

She nods quickly, trying to verbalize and only managing a strangled sound past the grip on her throat. It’s fucking hypnotic, she doesn’t even know if her vision is anything close to going out because it’s so damn dark in the room already, and that modulated chuckle next to her ear has a direct line to the tight heat in her belly. 

Mando doesn’t waste any time trailing his hand down to slide a finger into her soaking heat. He groans deep in his chest as he lets the sticky fluid coat his fingers, sliding them along her folds and making a lazy circle around her clit. She tries to roll her hips into the movement and he tsks and stops the motion of his fingers.

“None of that. You stay nice and still now, hm? Are you going to behave for me?” 

He loosens the grip on her throat enough for her to rasp an answer. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes what?” His voice is dangerous. His fingers pinch her clit hard and her eyes roll back. 

“Yes, sir.” She chokes out, her fingers digging into his shoulder behind her. 

“Then let go of me before I put you in binders.” She yanks her hand back as if she's been scalded and he laughs low. “Good girl. Keep your hands in front of you, where I can see them.” The reminder that Mando can see her while she's seeing none of him is enough to make her rub her thighs together, trying to force friction around his still fingers. The growl from beside her ear stops her immediately. 

“Sorry, sir.” She whispers, breathing shakily. 

“Better.” He says, and she sighs contentedly as he goes back to tracing slow circles on the bundle of nerves between her legs, dipping every few passes into her wet heat to coat his fingers again. 

“ _I_ _ssik_ , little one, you’re dripping. Is this just being in my bed? You thought about this before?” Her breaths are stilted now, fingers knotted together to keep from reaching down to guide his hand faster harder _more_. She can feel her muscles tightening already, it’s been so goddamn long since she's had more than three seconds to spend with herself or anyone else and she's aching. 

His fingers stop suddenly and she freezes, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. The fingers of his other hand on her throat still but they’re just poised there, no pressure yet. 

“I asked you a question.” 

_He also said to stay quiet._ The part of her brain that told her this was a bad idea is trying to weigh in again but at this point it’s been left in the dust behind the speeder. 

Trying to strike a balance between the two, she hesitates with her mouth open like a fish. Her brain can’t work fast enough, too deep into the moment to be capable of solid decision-making. Mando takes the opportunity to move two fingers to her chin and firmly turns her head up towards his helmet. 

“When I ask you a question, I expect a verbal answer.” 

She latches onto one word in the sentence and her voice comes out a little dreamy. “What was the question?” 

The fingers on her chin tighten painfully and her face is forced down into the pillow. It smells like soap and metal. Cool beskar slides against her face as he brings his head down to hers. If he wasn’t wearing the damn thing she can imagine she would feel his breath against her cheek and she whines thinking about it. 

“Thought I told you to be quiet. You said you were going to behave for me, remember? This isn't behaving.” 

Mando’s other hand pulls away from her and she almost moans at the loss before she feels him roughly yanking her leggings over the curve of her ass. 

“I’ve given you every opportunity to be a good girl, and you insist on being a _brat_.” He hisses. 

The same hand pushes her down onto her stomach and then smooths over her ass. She yelps louder than she means to when he strikes the delicate skin there a second later, and the hand Mando still has around her throat tightens, pulling her head up off the pillow as it does. 

“I ought to muzzle you, little one.” He hums, sounding far too pleased with himself to be angry. She squeezes her eyes shut as he rains short, sharp blows down on her ass cheeks, the sting only adding to the heat between her legs. She can hardly breathe through the pressure on her throat and she's deliciously lightheaded at the strong thumb and fingers curling into either side of her windpipe. 

She bites her tongue as the heat builds, breath stuttering and body trembling as she teeters along that sharp edge of pleasure and pain. She's biting back moans but she's determined to stay quiet, like a good girl. Finally, _finally_ the blows change to a smoothing motion, and she feels him dip down into the wet mess between her thighs. The hand around her throat loosens and she swims back to herself as Mando shifts her onto her back. A hand sweeps her hair out of her face and the touch is so gentle. 

“You did so good, sweet girl. Staying quiet for me, and keeping your hands where I could see them.” She preens a little under the praise, smiling under the light trail of his fingers across her cheeks. 

“Think you deserve something for being so good for me.” She automatically spreads her thighs when she feels his hand slide between them, her leggings still pushed down below her ass. She almost sobs with relief when he slips two thick fingers into her, and she reaches to push her leggings further down her legs so she can let her knees fall open for him. 

“You feel so good around my fingers, _mesh’la_ , so tight. I can barely imagine how snug you’d feel around my cock.” 

She lets a moan slide past her lips and feels cool beskar rest on her forehead as he thrusts his fingers slowly into her. His thumb works her clit in smooth circles until she's breathing in ragged gasps, small sounds falling from her lips that she can’t hold back. Her insides are wound like an over-tightened ‘spanner and little tremors are building in her limbs. 

“That’s it, _cyar’ika_ , come on. Want to see you to cum.” The idea of Mando wanting to watch her cum is what does it in the end, and she lets out a high keening moan before his hand claps over her mouth. “Shhh, there you go, _mesh’la_. _There_ we go.” He works her through it, her body shaking and twitching in his talented hands. She struggles to catch her breath as she comes down from it, pleasure still pulsing slowly through her core as he withdraws his fingers from her and lays them on her stomach. They’re damp with her own wetness. 

He lets out a satisfied sigh. “You blush all the way down to your breasts when you cum, _cyar’ika_.” Coming back to her mind at the comment, she brings her arms over her face to hide it. Mando laughs, the sound warm even through the modulator.

“Don’t hide from me. I love seeing it. All that smooth skin blushing just for me.” He drags the fingers of his right hand slowly up between her breasts under her sweater, drawing careless circles as he does. She can vaguely feel cold air across her skin but she's still too blissed out to really care. Mando must though because he tucks the blankets more around her shoulders and then goes back to tracing nonsense patterns along her skin. Relaxing into the warmth and the feeling of those clever fingers on her skin, she just lets herself drift. 

_A girl could get used to this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _mesh'la_ \- beautiful  
>  _cyar'ika_ \- sweetheart, darling  
>  _osik_ \- shit


	2. Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaas youuuuuu wiiiiish. Thanks to the lovely Itsagoodthing for betaing. Enjoy!

The delicate trace of fingers down the centerline of her body continues, but she can feel a hard indent against her thigh. It’s a reminder to even her blissed-out mind that she's been the only one to benefit from this arrangement so far. 

Intending to repay the favor, she reaches a hand down and let it drift softly over him. The casual trail of Mando's fingers pauses and then his hand curls slightly so blunt nails are set lightly into her skin. 

As far as she can see, she's got two potential paths ahead of her. She can be sweet and soft and take care of him without being a tease. 

_But where’s the fun in that?_

She bites back a grin, knowing full well that Mando could see it even in the darkness and instead stretch languorously, shifting her hip against him in a mimic of the same movement he started this whole exercise with earlier. He draws his hand out from under her sweater and lets it rest on her hip, one finger tapping against her skin. 

He grunts at the feeling of her leg sliding against him, and her heart picks up hearing it. She is well aware that she's heading straight into dangerous territory, so naturally there’s nothing to do now but throw some more fuel on the fire. 

_That’s a healthy attitude when baiting a Mandalorian hunter with a kill sheet longer than your arm, right?_

She massages the hard line of his cock through his pants, and turns onto her side to face him. She look towards where she's fairly certain his head is as her fingers make quick work of the drawstring on his pants, and vaguely hopes that she's not giving bedroom eyes to a patch of wall over his shoulder. 

Just as she slide one hand into his pants, fingers itching to curl around what feels like a very nice cock, his hand grabs hers. She freezes, the air in her lungs suspended and her muscles locked. It’s an involuntary prey reaction, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up feeling his eyes on her. He leans close and when he speaks again it’s as intimate as if his lips were at her ear. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She turns her head just a touch, just enough to feel the cool metal brush her cheek. As cold as it is outside the blankets, she feels like she's running a fever now. She shrugs one shoulder and wiggles her fingers in his tight grasp. 

“Figured I’d take care of you.” She says innocently. “Gotta find _some_ way to thank you for taking care of me. Keeping me from freezing and all.” 

“Is that so.” There’s a rough edge to his voice but she can hear eagerness in it too. The heat is building in her belly again, and something twists in her, jitters of mixed anxiety and excitement. 

“Mmhmm.” She hums, and brings her other hand up to trail down his torso. Muscles twitch minutely under her fingers and she would really love to know how that feels without a shirt in the way. 

“You going be nice to me?” Mando asks and she nods, slipping one foot in between his calves. 

“I’ll be good, promise.” 

It’s not that she's _lying_ , it’s just that she has no intention of being good. She has a distinct feeling that she'll get what she really wants regardless of her behavior, and she's having way too much fun to think about self-preservation. Plus, if this is the only time this is going to happen, she's going to make sure she's got plenty of material to occupy herself on future nights. 

Mando must either believe her or be willing to overlook the very clear lie because he releases her hand. She flexes her fingers once before sliding them to her original destination. 

_Stars_ , she is both impressed and a little bit concerned, because Mando is definitely not lacking in that department. As she curls her hand around the hot, hard length of him the smart part of her brain reminds her that a dick this size could easily wreck her. 

_That’s kind of the point, though. Now let me make some terrible decisions in peace_. 

He thrusts into her hand a bit as she starts long, slow strokes from root to tip. A little twist of her wrist brings a harsh exhale from him. Stiflingly hot under the layers of blankets and pressed up next to a human plasma generator, she uses her free foot to push her leggings and panties down from their place around her knees so she's just wearing her sweater and undershirt. Frankly, she'd like to lose the sweater too but that would involve letting go of his dick and she doesn't want to stop the intoxicating noises he’s making now. 

She swipes her thumb over the head of his cock and feels the pre-cum collecting there. The moisture gives her an idea and she pulls her unoccupied hand up to her mouth and drags her tongue over her palm before reaching back down to replace her other hand. The reaction is instantaneous, Mando groans and his hand clamps down on her wrist. She's pretty damn certain it’s not to stop her though, and that’s confirmed when he directs her hand faster. 

“ _Maker_ , feels so go-goddamn good. Could make me cum just like this, sweet girl.” He grinds out, sounding like he’s speaking through gritted teeth. 

It shoots straight through her and she's fucking _throbbing_ between her legs now. She keeps up the motion of her hand, dragging against the pressure of his hand just slow enough to keep him from being able to cum. 

That in itself is probably falling towards the “not good” side of the scale, but it kind of pales in comparison to the fact that she's slipping the fingers of her free hand down discreetly to her own heat. After all, she's taking care of him, so what’s the big deal if she just... _helps_ herself out a little too? She lets out a little sigh of relief when she finally gets her fingers on her clit, stroking little circles in a similar rhythm to her other hand on his cock. 

She can tell the _exact_ moment Mando realizes what she's doing, because she can practically feel the bones in her wrist grind against each other with how tight his grip gets. His other hand comes down to grab her hand as she tries to pull it back up. He leans his weight onto her and she's incapable of squirming back so much as an inch. 

She is well and truly screwed. 

_Perfect_. 

“Oh, _little one_.” She can’t resist the shudder that runs through her at the dark edge in his voice. “And here I thought you were smarter than that. _”_

He’s got her completely pinned, unable to even move the guilty hand off herself. One calloused hand pulls her hand off him and moves to grab her other wrist. His hand is goddamn big enough that he can capture both her wrists in one of his and he leans back a little, his other hand slipping across her cheekbone. Not expecting the touch, inky black still the only thing in her vision, she jerks back a little. Mando grabs her chin between his thumb and forefinger and yanks her back to him so her forehead rests against the smooth surface of his helmet. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, _cyar’ika_. Since you’ve proven that you can’t keep your hands on task and behave, I’m going to have to put you in binders.” The whine that escapes her is downright _pathetic_ and he chuckles in response. “You’re going to take off your clothes and face the bulkhead again, and then put your hands out in front of you. Understood?” 

She nods and he releases her wrists. Before he’s actually gotten out of the bed she's whipping her sweater and undershirt off over her head and pulling the balled up material of her leggings and panties out from the covers. She tosses the bundle somewhere towards the bottom of the bed and turns to face the bulkhead. Goosebumps rise on her skin, though she's not sure if they’re more from the chill in the air or nerves. _Both. Definitely both._

She reaches her hands out in front of her until her knuckles graze the cold metal of the wall. It’s grounding somehow, which to be honest is good because right now she feels like that one time when she tried Spice and spent about three hours floating somewhere in orbit around Ord Mantell. She's not sure exactly what Mando will _do_ with her once he gets her in binders but it’s probably a good idea to have more than one brain cell planetside when he does. 

Right on cue, she feel him put a knee on the bed and reach over her. She's pretty damn sure he’s working off his helmet display but she keeps her eyes closed anyway. His hands close on her wrists and he pulls them up. She gasps a second later when a clicking sound accompanies the truly _frigid_ bite of metal on her skin. He snaps the binders closed around her wrists and magnetizes the cuffs to the bulkhead, leaving her arms stretched out and just above her head. 

"If that gets too cold, you tell me, okay?" His modulated voice is lower, more gentle, and she knows he's talking outside this little scene they've both created. 

"I'll be fine, Mando." She assures him, but she can feel him shaking his head before she gets the sentence out. 

"I'm serious. If they get too cold or you want out, tell me." His voice is insistent enough that she turns her head pointlessly to look back at him. 

“Okay.” She says quietly, nodding. “I’ll tell you if it’s too cold or I want to stop.” 

“Good girl.” He gives one perfunctory pull of the binders and grunts in satisfaction when her hands don’t move an inch. Mando slips back under the covers and she shivers when he slides a cold hand over her hip and down across her lower stomach. There's a brush of hot skin against her back and _small gods_ , he took his shirt off while he was out there. 

She pushes back against him so she can feel that heat along her whole back and lets her head tip into where his shoulder meets his neck. His fingers slip between her thighs but just drift so goddamn close to where she needs him.

“If I remember correctly, you told me you were going to return the favor. Now you’ve got me all worked up."

He certainly doesn't sound worked up, which is just plain unfair considering the fact that there’s a light tremor running through her limbs. Hell at this point she's fairly certain the nervous energy burning under her skin could power the whole goddamn _Crest_ and get them both off this iceball. 

His fingers circle and pluck at her nipples, drawing out needy moans and making her strain a little against the cuffs. The stretch in her arms almost feels good as she arches against him, ass grinding back into that thick cock. She yelps a moment later when he smacks her thigh. 

" _Still_ not behaving. And here you said you were going to be nice to me." 

"I will be," she promises. 

"How's that? Your hands are tied, literally, and your mouth is busy." He demonstrates by pinching her nipple _hard_ and a strangled moan slips out of her. 

"So. How are you going to be nice to me, hm?" 

She turns her head back towards him, eyes open again and wide. 

"You could...you could--"

"I could what, little one?" He sounds fucking hungry now. 

All of a sudden she's going shy on him, which makes no goddamn sense at all. But something about asking him to fuck her brains out when she doesn't even know his name or what color his fucking _eyes_ are makes her hesitate. 

The worst part is that he _knows_. She can imagine the predatory smile he must have on as he trails his fingers across her inner thighs, blatantly ignoring how they open like she's desperate for him. The still-functioning part of her brain reminds her that, in fact, she is, but it also let her get into this situation so at this point it can get fucked. 

"You going to just lay there biting your lip all night or are you going to tell me what you want, _cyar'ika_?" 

Now she's sure he's got that smile on. She can hear it in his voice. He's fucking _enjoying_ this. Releasing her lip from between her teeth, she runs her tongue over it, smoothing out the marks. The sound Mando makes cuts straight to her core and she freezes again. 

"Answer me or I'll put that tongue to better use." She can feel the hard line of him against her ass, and it makes her mouth water a little to imagine looking up at him in the dark with his cock in her mouth but at this point she wants it someplace else. 

"Please _please_ just--" she can feel her damn cheeks go hot because she's fucking _begging_ and she never begs but suffering _gods_ this man does things to her. "Just--please fuck me. I'll be so good, you can do whatever you want. Please..."

And he just _laughs_. 

She buries her burning face in her outstretched arms, so humiliated and turned on and wet that she's sure he can feel it through his baselayer. It doesn't get better when he jerks her hips back into his, grinding up against her. 

"You sound so sweet begging for my cock, _mesh'la_. Whatever I want? You sure about that?" 

Even in her wrecked state she can tell he's asking seriously and she'd be touched at his concern for her well-being if her well-being didn't currently depend on getting his cock into her as soon as physically fucking possible. 

"Fucking positive. Whatever you want. Just please--goddamnit." 

She's already looking at dignity lying dead in a ditch, along with common sense and its friend, sensible decisions, so she might as well go all in.

"Want you to wreck me, Mando. Use me however you like, take whatever you want just please, stop _teasing_ me." 

It's possible that she's whining that last bit because the bastard has two fingers sliding slowly around her entrance and up to circle her clit but he's not _there_. She's just empty and aching and a goddamn hot mess. 

He pulls his hand back and she does actually let out a strangled whimper at that, because fuck it's _something_ even if it's not what she needs most. She can feel him doing something behind her and forces herself to breath more steadily as she listens. 

That goes well until she feels his cock slide up against her ass, hard and deliciously smooth. She squeezes her eyes shut and pushes back against him, her arms pulled tight above her. 

He takes himself in one hand and uses one knee to slot her thighs open, one of her legs slung over his thigh, and he slips the head of his cock over her. 

Not into her. Over her. And he accused _her_ of being a tease. 

“Should I fuck you on your back, so I can watch your pretty little mouth? Flip you over so I can see your ass bounce? Or--” He lets just the tip of his cock slip into her wet heat but uses his other hand to stop her hips from rolling backwards as she tries to continue the movement. “Or should I fuck you just like this, all soft and open for me?” 

She doesn't really give a shit at this point, they all sound like _great_ options, but she knows he’s not going to do jack-all until she answers him so she tries to pull together the shadow of a braincell because the least she can do is keep up the attitude that got her into this to begin with. 

“How about you fuck me the way you’ve been imagining it? Up here at night, all by yourself?” She pants and _Maker, what is she even saying_. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it before.” 

Now _that’s_ going to leave some bruises, she thinks, as his grip locks down on her hip. He drags his fingers down her thigh and jerks her leg back towards him so she's spread wide open. It’s almost painful but she can feel he’s struggling not to just fucking sink into her and somehow she's not sure she wouldn’t like it if it _was_ painful. 

That’ll be a thought for another day. Another occasion, if she gets _exceptionally_ lucky. 

The next second he’s throwing that same leg back towards the front and pulling away from her and _shit_ did she go too far? Is she about to get kicked out and have to sleep in that pitiful excuse for a bed in the cold without even getting to the main event? 

Her worries are somewhat alleviated when he sits up and yanks her up by her hips so she's on her knees. The blankets pull up around his shoulders and off her back and she's reminded suddenly that _there’s a sub-zero storm outside and this ship's electrical systems are dead._ Thankfully, a distraction from this thought comes when Mando knocks her knees wide and pulls her back so her arms are taut in front of her. There’s so little slack that she can’t even really press her face into the damn mattress when he lines himself up and starts sliding into her. 

Now, she's very wet, and he’s done a damn good job getting her ready, but there’s only so much that can be done when she's dealing with a cock like this, and the first thing to go is her breath. Once he’s in far enough, he puts his guiding hand on her back and pushes down slightly so she's at an even more strained angle but she's not really noticing anything beyond the fact that she's being split in fucking two at the moment. 

He pulls out just an inch or two and then continues the slow slide into her until his hips meet her backside. She can vaguely hear someone whispering ‘fuck’ and she's pretty sure it’s her but she's a little busy trying to relax every muscle south of her lungs. 

“ _Osik_ , sweet girl, you’re tight as a fucking vice. I can hardly move.” 

Some part of her is extremely pleased that Mando also sounds absolutely wrecked now, as if he can barely get the words out, and she wonders if he’s got his head thrown back, what the corded muscle in his neck looks like from this angle. He smooths a hand over her ass and she feels a tremor in it that’s just a compliment in itself. 

“Relax, _cyar'ika_. Just breathe.” He says, and she takes a few deep breaths and have moderate success. She's at least not squeezing all the blood out of his cock now, at any rate. 

“That’s it. Just like that.” He sighs and pulls out a bit to reseat himself, drawing a moan from her at the drag along her walls. “Taking my cock so well, sweet girl. Just like I imagined.” Her brain takes a few extra seconds to catch up because yeah, she _said_ that but she wasn't _serious_ about it. 

She doesn't get very long to wonder just how long ago they could’ve done this before he leans over her, planting the hand not on her back on the mattress beside her head. 

“You asked me how I imagined fucking you, right?” Feeling the heat of his body caging her in and hearing his voice so damn close to her ear just reminds her how much _bigger_ he is than her. “Still want to know?” 

She nods helplessly, her hair sliding across her shoulder. He sits back up and as he does he gathers her hair in a tight fist. He doesn’t yank, but between her arms stretched in front of her and her hair as a handle pulling her head back, she feels his cock sink just a little deeper into her as he grinds hard against her. 

“Tell me.” He says, and she'll allow this check of her well-being because she is _so goddamn close_ to getting what she wants. 

“Please just _move_ already, Mand--” Is all she gets out before he quite literally fucks the breath out of her lungs. He’s not pulling out all the way but she swears to the Maker that he’s probably reaching her stomach when he slams back into her each time. Neither of them are bothering to keep quiet now, she can hear groans from him in counterpoint to the obscene smack of his hips into her ass and she's not even sure what noises she's making but she knows they’re high-pitched and beyond her control. 

The problem with him being such a goddamn tease to her earlier is that she's so on edge that she's tightening up again almost immediately, and holding back is not an option. She cries out sharply as her orgasm shoots lightning through her core and maybe it’s a good thing that he’s got her in binders because there’s no fucking way her arms could hold her up through that. 

“Shit, are you coming?” He gasps and grinds hard into her to keep from being pushed out by the clench of her walls around him. He only slows for a second though before he’s back to that grueling pace and there are tears in her eyes now because her body is wrung out like a rag and he’s _still_ fucking her like she hasn't cum twice already tonight. 

“Going to fuckin--can I--inside-?” She gets the gist of the question and tries to nod against the grip on her hair, moaning. “Yes, in me.” 

He shoves her knees just a little further apart and pushes her back down just a little more and the angle changes and then he’s hitting a spot inside her that makes her sob. Her orgasm is on her like a fucking speeder this time before she even knows it’s coming. Muscles cramp almost painfully and she tightens down around him again and an urgent, broken sound escapes her as she feels him pulse inside her. She hears him cursing in something other than Basic and it’s intense enough that if she weren’t already seeing black she thinks she’d probably be seeing spots. 

She comes back to herself and he’s laid out over her back, but he’s got his hands next to her shoulders to keep his full weight off her. They're both breathing like they've just run from loth-wolves and her arms are genuinely hurting now. She makes a small sound of discomfort and tries to lean forward to give herself some slack. 

Mando notices and sits up, reaching above her. His cock slips out of her and she feels their combined fluids dripping down her thighs. 

“Here, let me--.” He does something to the binders and her arms fall from the wall and the cuffs click open. He tosses them aside where they land with a dull thunk on the deck and then there are large, warm hands massaging life back into her wrists and fingers. She lets her torso relax down onto the mattress, breathing a sigh of relief. Mando slowly works his way up her arms and it feels heavenly until he sits back, pulling her up with him. She hisses at the pain in her shoulders and he makes a low sound in his throat. 

“Should’ve told me it hurt. I would’ve taken them off.” 

Arms relaxed at her sides, she leans back against his chest, turning her head to the side so her face is tucked into his exposed neck. 

“Didn’t want you to take ‘em off.” She murmurs. “Was good.” 

He orients her to lay down on her side and straightens the now disheveled mess of blankets so they lay flat again. Now that her heart is starting to return to something approximating normal, she can feel how cold it is outside the covers, and she readily scoots back when he lays down behind her. A muscled forearm slips under the pillow she's resting on, and his other arm snags around her waist to pull her back against him. The cold metal of his helmet slips against the back of her neck, and she thinks that it can’t possibly be comfortable for him to sleep in it. 

“D’you want me to sleep downstairs?” She asks, voice slurring slightly. “So you can take that thing off?” 

He tightens his grip on her. “We’ve been over this. If you sleep down there I’m going to have to defrost you before you can fix the ship tomorrow.” 

She's warm and exhausted and _content_ as she smiles. 

“Good thing you know how to warm a girl up then.” 


	3. Thawing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, hey guys. I guess we're just gonna get a new chapter of this whenever my brain decides it's time to dump 5.5k words in 3 hours at 2am. #Shereshoy

It’s been about a week since she’d managed to nurse the electrical systems of the _Crest_ into limping off the Hoth-wannabe planet and to somewhere vaguely resembling civilization. Since then, things have been pretty quiet. The ship’s in a paid berth for the next few days so she can make repairs, and Maker, there are a _lot_ of them. When Mando had told her to keep the old gunship flying, watch the kid, and keep her mouth shut, she’d thought watching the kid would be the hardest part. Or potentially keeping her mouth shut. 

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t spent a solid part of the last week reimagining That Particular Night. When she’d woken up the next morning, Mando was already down in the hull with the kid, and her clothes had been folded neatly on top of the blankets. Since then, he’s been a perfect gentleman. Can she use that term for a Mandalorian? More importantly, can she use that term for someone who’d locked her wrists to a wall and fucked her raw? 

She’s distracted from this line of thought by the sound of Mando’s boots on the ladder. Taking a last scan of the list she’s drafted on the data-pad, she uncrosses her legs and climbs off her bunk. He’s at the weapons locker when she looks up and doesn’t pause from his perusal when she comes over.

“So, we need some parts for the repairs. I put together a list if you want to check--” 

Without speaking, Mando holds out a gloved hand and she passes over the datapad. She’s been around him long enough to know it’s not a lack of trust that makes him want to check, it’s just how he is. His look is cursory at best, and he hands the datapad back a moment later. As she takes it from him, her mind helpfully reminds her what that hand had felt like on her throat a week ago and there’s a heat that blooms in her stomach at the memory. 

Mando interrupts the adult holovid playing in her head. “Looks fine. You need credits?” 

She shakes her head, scrolling back over the list again. “I’ve got enough left over from what you gave me last time.” 

He pulls out a pistol and a few of what she’s assuming are charges of some kind, holstering the weapon and tucking the charges into a pouch at his back. 

“Little man still sleeping?” She asks, looking towards the cockpit. Mando knows she’s got feelings about leaving the kid up there unattended, but apparently he considers her presence enough to keep the kid out of trouble. And, to be fair, the ship is powered down. Even so, she’s seen the intelligence in those dark eyes, and she’s fairly certain the kid could figure it out given adequate time alone. Kids _always_ figure out more shit than people give them credit for. 

Mando nods. “I’ve got a job. Should be back tonight, but it might run longer. Can you handle things here?” 

The planet seems fairly quiet, and the berth locks from the inside. Even with her self-proclaimed lack of defensive skills, she’s pretty confident that she can handle whatever might come up in the cycle. “Of course.” 

“Good.” She tries not to preen too much at the approval in his voice but fuck, she’s helpless to resist it. “I’ll be back.” 

“Happy hunting,” she says, tucking the data pad under her arm and swiping some loose hair out of her eyes. Mando just inclines his head and slips his rifle strap over his shoulder opposite a small bag before heading down the ramp to track down whatever poor bastard he’s drawn a puck for today. 

The rest of the day goes quickly. The kid wakes up and they play for a few hours, which consists largely of him wandering the confines of their little berth and ‘helping’ by bringing her random items as she gets started on the long list of repairs. It’s honestly a fucking miracle that the ship runs as well as it does, given all the issues she’s catalogued. She chalks it up to the age, since ships this old were made to run on nothing more than half-burn fuel and hard work. It’s a factor that she’s not sure the Mandalorian appreciates as much as he should, and it’s something she fully intends to remind him of when he gets back that evening. 

Except he doesn’t get back that evening. 

Or the next morning. 

Or that afternoon. 

By the second afternoon, both she and the kid are on edge. There’s no way the kid could know that his dad (Dad? Caretaker? Protector? She’s never poked enough to get a solid answer) should reasonably be back by now, but those dark eyes have the same level of anxiety as the knots in her gut and she can’t find it in herself to lie to him. 

“Really hope your dad didn’t get himself in over his head. We’ve only got enough for another day of port fees here.” 

The kid trills a low, sad sound, and the noise is so obviously worried that she scoops him up and cradles him close. “I can’t imagine that anyone would really risk getting into a dust-up with that heap of metal, buddy. Way too much trouble. If we don’t hear anything by tomorrow morning we’ll start looking, okay?” 

She’s not exactly sure _where_ they’ll start looking, but it’s enough to calm the kid for the moment at least. That night, she lets him sleep with her rather than in his little pod. He clings to her with tiny claws, and she finds herself matching her breaths to his deep, slow inhalations as he drifts into sleep. She wonders whether the Mandalorian does the same thing when he sleeps with the kid in his quarters, and the image is a sweet one as she strokes the kid’s back reassuringly. 

A few hours later, she wakes to a pounding sound outside the ship. Eyes flying open in the dim red of the ship’s emergency lighting, body tense, she waits to see if it was a dream.

A moment later, there’s another three, slow, pounding blows outside the berth door and she scrambles out of her bunk. The kid is still curled in the blankets at her side, and he barely stirs even with the sounds. She wraps him in his favorite blue blanket and carefully tucks him into the cocoon of worn cloak and linens inside his pod. He snuggles further down into the blankets, ears twitching, but seems to accept the move without waking, and she breathes a sigh of relief. 

The silver cover of the pod closes with a soft ‘snick’, and she hurries to let down the ramp as the pounding sounds again from outside. It’s slower this time, almost as if the person knocking is tiring. Crossing to the personnel entrance, she leans close to it, spreading her hands on the cool metal of the door. 

“Mando?” Her voice isn’t particularly loud, but she’s well-acquainted enough with the sensors in her Mandalorian’s helmet to know that he’ll be able to hear her even through the metal. 

“ _It’s me_.”

The replying voice sounds exhausted, and there’s an undercurrent to it that has her jerking back to enter the access code into the keypad with shaking fingers. Why couldn’t he unlock it from the outside? Is he injured or just tired? Did he not find the quarry? 

The door hisses open and a broad form comes across the threshold, carrying a limp figure over one shoulder. She breathes a sigh of relief because there’s no obvious sign of injury in his gait. Once inside the door, he brushes her shaky fingers aside from the keypad and closes the berth personnel door again. The limp body is dumped unceremoniously off his shoulder. 

Squinting down in the near darkness, she sees it’s a male Falleen who looks to have come out worse in a fistfight, and is very clearly unconscious. She looks back up at the impassive beskar mask. 

“What took you so long?” 

It isn’t what she meant to ask. She _meant_ to ask about the Falleen. Whether he’d fought back, where Mando was scheduled to drop him off, whether she should get the carbonite frame warmed up for use. But the words slip out before she can stop them and there’s a concern in them that she _definitely_ doesn’t want to address right now. 

“Was better at hiding than I thought he’d be. Took me a while to track him down.” 

There’s still that edge to his voice, more pronounced now even through the modulator, and it has her shifting uncomfortably. 

“Kid alright?” His next question is fairly predictable, and at least this question she can answer easily. 

“Yeah. Conked out a few hours ago. No problems.” 

Mando makes an approving sound and turns to look towards the ship’s lowered ramp. Her mind scrambles wildly, thinking of the next steps. 

“D’you want me to warm up--the--” _Stop stammering like an idiot_. “You want to freeze him?” 

“Yes.” He grinds the word out, and she hurries up the ramp like he’s just given her a choice between warming up the carbonite unit or being put in it herself. The unit hisses lightly as the yellow lights flicker to life, and she steps back to ease the door to her bunk shut. No sense waking the kiddo up now. 

As she waits for the unit to go through it’s usual start-up checks, she shifts from one foot to the other. It’s the stupidest thing in the galaxy, but she can feel a damp heat between her thighs, causing her underwear to cling to her. He hasn’t even _said_ anything to her specifically at this point. Just walked in there with the quarry and dumped them on the duracrete floor like a sack of shurra fruits, and here she is ready to strip and present herself for whatever he has in mind. 

“Get it the fuck together,” she whispers harshly to herself as she enters the appropriate code into the unit to prepare for a freezing cycle. 

“Get what together?” 

She jumps, and _Maker,_ she’s got to put a damn bell on him because it’s unfair that someone should be able to move that quietly with what has to be at least a hundred and seventy five pounds of limp quarry on their shoulders. 

“N-nothing. Should be ready to go.” She backs up as Mando lets the Falleen back down into the open frame before hitting the initialization switch on the unit. It hisses loudly and steam billows over his form as the quarry is frozen into unconscious compliance. 

Mando steps back from the unit and turns to move past her. “Can you get it into the storage rack for me?” 

He’s at most a few inches from her and the tilt of his visor is shamefully impactful as he looks down at her. She’s reminded that she’s just wearing her long-sleeved sleep shirt, and she squeezes her thighs together. 

“Yeah.” She forces the word out past tingling lips that still remember the feel of his palm over them. “No problem.” 

He pauses a second longer and she doesn't miss the way one of his hands flexes at his side like he’s keeping himself from reaching for her. As if she’s a goddamn magnet, she sways towards him a bit and in return she gets a sharp inhale through the modulator. 

He nods curtly. “Thank you.” Always so polite, except when he’s tormenting her and calling her desperate for wanting him inside her. _Asshole._

Continuing to the front of the hull with heavier footsteps than usual, he pulls himself up the ladder with a swirl of his cloak and a light metallic ringing on the rungs. 

Once the freezing cycle’s complete, she guides the carbonite block into the storage rack with the other three he’s already got hanging. It locks into place so they won’t be killed by flying quarry the next time they hit turbulence in hyperspace. Smoothing her hands over the long hem of her sleep shirt, she turns her head to look up towards the quiet cockpit and the captain’s quarters located just behind. 

Does he need any help? Does he need anything--else? 

This is stupid. She should just be pleased that she hasn’t been abandoned with this strange, sweet baby with bizarre powers and no credits, not wondering whether or not the Mandalorian happens to have any need of someone to lick his wounds for him. _Just go back to bed and take care of yourself quickly and quietly, as per fuckin’ usual_. 

Still, the thought won’t leave her be, tugging her towards the ladder and the unknown possibilities if she takes that path. Exhaling hard through her nose, she resolves that she can at least indulge this a little. Just for a moment, at least. She checks on the kid, and he’s still sleeping deeply, ears twitching every minute or so as he dreams.

She only hesitates at the bottom of the ladder before pulling herself up the rungs, her bare feet silent on the smooth metal. There's a dim light under the door to the captain’s quarters and her heart starts pounding as she pulls herself up through the hatch. 

Maybe this is a terrible idea. Scratch that, this is almost _certainly_ a terrible idea. The guy probably just wants some damn sleep. 

But. 

If he just wanted that, why had he almost reached for her back there? Why had he given her what she’s fairly certain is the fuck-me visor glare? Had he just figured it was late and he was gross after two days of hunting and she wouldn't be interested?

Straightening, she balls up her fists and takes another step towards his door. The cross-hatched grating clinks traitorously under her feet and she hears the movement inside the small quarters stop. The idea of Mando listening for her just outside the door kicks her arousal up another notch. Nothing for it now but to see if she’s right. Worst case scenario, he’ll politely tell her to go back to sleep and she can go self-immolate downstairs in her bunk. 

She knocks lightly on his door. “Mando?” 

There’s silence for a moment, in which time her insides begin to shrivel like a drying meska bean and she starts to turn away. It’s been a good life, but death by embarrassment seems to be next up on her to do list. She’s about to slip back down the hatch when his door slides open, those broad shoulders filling the doorway. 

He doesn’t say anything, but there’s more tension than tiredness in his shoulders. She straightens slowly but doesn’t move towards him, instead rubbing her thumb anxiously against the outer edge of her forefinger. He just waits. 

“I just wanted--I wasn’t sure if you were hurt or--is there anything you need?” 

He allows her to stand there in raging agony for another hour, which in all reality is likely only a few seconds, before he replies. He’s so still that his entire body could be carved from the beskar he wears. 

“Anything I need?” 

Some small part of her perks up at the fact that _this_ is the part of her disjointed question that he chose to focus on. He’s not hurt (which is always a bonus, given the fact that her continued employment depends on his ability to keep hunting and protecting the kid), and he’s not sending her away. 

Mando is far too smart to not realize exactly what she’s suggesting here, which means if he’s not turning it down outright, he’s interested. She’s also smart enough to realize that he’s giving her the opportunity now to back out gracefully if she chooses. If she makes some excuse about just wanting to make sure he’s alright or whatever, she’s certain he would bid her a quiet goodnight and leave her to sleep (or not sleep) utterly unsatisfied. 

But hidden in the tone of his question is a note that tells her he’s not planning on making this easy. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s just gotten back from what sounds like a frustrating hunt, or maybe he just really enjoyed seeing her squirm the last time, but he’s going to make her work for this. 

Well. Nobody’s ever said that she’s not a hard worker. 

Gathering her courage, she tilts her head and smiles. “I was just wondering if there’s anything I can do for you. To help you relax a little.” 

It’s not the most blatant response she could come up with, but she supposes the most blatant response would be for her to sink to her knees in front of him, and frankly that seems like giving up the ghost a little too quickly. She has several ideas here and there’s no point in limiting her options early on. 

Mando shifts slightly at this, the movement miniscule enough to miss if she wasn’t used to those types of small motions from him. She’s learned that there’s more to read in the stillness between his movements than the movements themselves, and that suits her just fine. 

“And how would you help me relax?” 

Alright, damn, she didn’t think he was going to be quite this difficult about it. Bastard’s really trying to make her come right out with it. Again, she can take the knees option here, but _there’s no fun in that_. “I can think of a few ways, if you’re willing to let me in.” 

There’s a sound from his modulator that could be a snort of humor, but he steps back all the same and gestures past himself wordlessly. 

It’s a strange feeling, to know that getting exactly what she wants feels akin to walking into a loth-wolf’s lair. She can _feel_ his eyes on her as she slips past him into his room, and every hair on the back of her neck stands up in response. It’s also not her body’s only response, and she catches herself squeezing her thighs together again at the ache between them. His helmet ticks down towards her center and it’s _ridiculous_ that he can pick up on her reactions almost more quickly than she can herself. 

At least the last time she was in here she had the excuse of looking around to buy herself a few seconds and try to calm her racing heart, but at this point the place looks identical to how it looked a week ago. She turns and almost steps backwards. He’s right up on her, and it shouldn’t be possible for someone without any visible gaze to be giving such a clear vibe that he’s looking at her like she’s a late night snack. 

She starts to reach a hand out but pauses, looking up to meet his visor. Now that she’s here, her courage is running for the hills. She’s still not entirely sure of all the rules here, particularly given the fact that she’d been either ordered around or in fucking binders for the majority of their last liaison. She’s sure Mando will let her know quickly if she crosses a line, but she’d rather not ruin what seems to be something with serious potential. Maker knows she’d prefer some variety from her own hand every now and then, and dating opportunities are slim on the ground around here.

Mando, in one of his surprising shows of gentleness, encircles her wrist with gloved fingers and brings it to his chest. Her fingers spread across the cold metal of his cuirass and she breathes in sharply. He tilts his head slightly in response, as if he’s waiting for something. 

Right, right, she’d told him she could help him relax. This whole gig appears predicated on her making a move. Which is harder than it had seemed when she’d pulled herself up the ladder and knocked on his door. 

But fuck, is she really going to meekly pull back now? Just blush and turn her gaze away like a handmaiden in some fairytale? 

Nah. 

Instead, she sets her jaw and pushes lightly on his chest. He takes a step back with the move, although it’s clear to both of them that he could easily choose to ignore the suggestion. Another two steps puts him with his calves brushing the edge of his bunk, and he sits without prompting. 

_So far, so good._

Standing between his knees, she lets her fingers trail over the rectangular diamond in-laid at the center of his cuirass, using the moment as a chance to get some semblance of a plan together. Undressing him, while it does have the benefit of getting to what she’s well aware is deliciously smooth and warm skin, doesn’t seem like the right path forward here. The last time he’d been very clear that she couldn’t see any part of him in the light, and if that’s a condition of this whole arrangement, then it kind of negates any potential option that has him out of his armor. 

She could work on loosening what she’s certain are stiff muscles in his shoulders and back and upper chest, but that also seems to be a moot point so long as the beskar stays in place. 

But there’s at least one place where Mando wears no beskar at all, and there’s at least one thing she can do that has a guaranteed result of relaxation with no risk of seeing forbidden bits. 

Making up her mind, she lays her hands on his pauldrons and slides into his lap, one thigh on either side of his hips. He inhales as she settles herself over the hard plating of his cuisses, and she pauses. 

“Is this okay?” 

He does the momentary-eternal pause again before his hands come up to rest on her hips and he pulls her a little more firmly against him. 

“Yes.” 

She hums, pleased, and shifts her knees to brace more snugly around his hips. The motion slots her front firmly against his cuirass, and she can feel the temperature difference of the metal through her sleep shirt. His gloved hands move naturally to her thighs and he starts to slip them under the hem of her shirt before he stops. 

“Can you--” he hesitates, and she waits. This is all new territory, with the dim light glancing off his beskar and giving her an unimpeded view of the way his chest is rising and falling faster than normal. It feels almost like she’s cheating, being able to see his reactions so clearly. “Can you look up?” 

_Shit_ , was she right? Is watching his reactions cheating in and of itself, even with the beskar and Maker knows how many layers of underclothing? Somewhat reluctantly, she drags her eyes up towards the crease the wall makes with the ceiling. His arms tighten around her waist for a moment as he fidgets with something and a moment later he twists under her as if he’s putting something to the side. 

A moment later, bare palms skim up her sides under her sleep shirt and she lets out a small moan in spite of herself. 

His voice rumbles low through her bliss. “Keep your eyes up, okay?” 

She nods, face still tilted up but her eyes closing as she revels in the slow drag of calloused fingers along her ribs and around to her back. “Yeah, eyes up. Got it.” 

“Good girl.” 

Oh _fuck_. 

He takes a few minutes to just run his hands over her, framing her waist and slipping his thumbs across her hip bones before moving down to gently squeeze the curve of her ass. Sliding his hand up to trace his fingertips along each vertebrae all the way up to the base of her neck and applying the smallest amount of pressure there to make her gasp raggedly.

She could easily luxuriate in just this all night, but there’s a nagging reminder in the back of her mind that she got into this delicious situation with a promise to help him relax. And while the argument can certainly be made that he’s relaxing, given the fact that she can feel the tension leaching out of his shoulders, it’s not _exactly_ what she had in mind. He slides his hands around to span her ribs, rucking her shirt out of the way. 

“Would you like me to take it off?” She asks, and her voice is mercifully steady. Mando stops for a moment before he nods. She can’t see the gesture from this angle but she can feel it in the muscles under her hands. As she starts to drop her hands from his shoulders to pull her sleep shirt off, another idea comes to her and she grins. “Or would you like to take it off?” 

His hands pause for a second before his fingers curl against her skin, blunt nails raising goosebumps along her ribs. _That’s a hard yes,_ she thinks with a flood of pride. She may not be able to watch his reactions, but there’s something intensely satisfying about knowing he’s just as responsive as she is. 

Sliding her hands down to rest across where she imagines his collarbones are under layers of cloak and duraweave and whatever lies beneath, she fixes her eyes back on the crease between the ceiling and the wall. “Go ahead, it’s alright.” A rush of courage hits her and she continues, “I want you to see.” 

The breath he draws in through the modulator is stuttered, but she indulges herself that she can almost _hear_ the lust in it. His hands slip up further until they catch the fabric under her arms and draw it up over her head. He does it so slowly that she knows he must be relishing it, and she leans back on his lap to give him a better view. 

There’s a harsh exhale as her shirt slips over her head and her hair falls back down over her shoulders. Her eyes still focused on the grey metal above her, she can’t tell exactly where he’s looking, but his attention is so clear that she feels herself slowly flushing. One hand settles gently under her left breast, his thumb rubbing lightly over the curve of it and she can’t seem to draw breath at all. The touch is light in comparison to his rapt attention, and the urge to look down and see how his hand looks against her skin is _so intense_ that she almost gives in. 

_Almost._

In the end, she squints up at that gorgeous, straight, crisp crease between ceiling and wall, and counts backwards slowly from ten while Mando traces his thumb in a small circle around her nipple. It hardens in the cool air under his touch, and a small pleased sound escapes him as his other hand comes up to splay over her right hip. 

It’s at this point that she realizes he may well be just as turned on by the idea of seeing his bare skin on hers as she is. He’s clearly got _some_ experience, the previous week had shown that, but it had also shown her that the liaisons he’s had before have likely been within extremely fine parameters with unyielding boundaries. How likely it is that he’s been able to just take his time and explore in the light? 

Some small part of her also wonders how much trust has to do with this. The concern in his voice when he’d verified her continued consent the previous week, coupled with the way he’d pulled her close to sleep after, had sparked a small flame of hope in her chest that maybe this is more just a quick stress relief situation. He trusts her enough to repair his ship, to look after his child, to keep her eyes fixed on the ceiling while he takes his gloves off and indulges what’s pretty clearly a tactile fixation. Maybe there’s more here. 

That growing warmth in her chest spreads further down to her center as he covers her breast with his palm and molds the soft flesh in his grasp. Shifting on his lap, she can feel a cloth-covered ridge against the damp fabric of her underwear, and a heat there. The hand on her hip tightens, and without warning he grinds her down on him. Her spine straightens unconsciously at the feeling and she squeezes her knees in tight as she pushes her hips down against his. 

Her fingertips curl around the top of his cuirass, the edge of the metal biting into her finger pads as she grinds herself across him again. His hand on her hip urges her forward and she keeps her torso leaning slightly back so he can keep his other hand on her breast.

An ache shoots through her at each slow drag, and she becomes aware that she’s panting now, every sensation heightened by the fact that she’s still got her eyes on that perfectly welded crease above Mando's head. Dimly, she realizes he’s speaking, but the words don’t make any sense to her. 

“ _Ni copaani haat’taylir an gar, cyar’ika._ ” The words are almost a groan torn from his modulator as his fingers pluck at her nipple, the feeling jolting straight down to where she’s hot against him. 

He’s hard as a fucking rock and part of her wants to free him from his canvas trousers, but honestly she’s not sure that wouldn’t be too high a risk in his book. Regardless, she has to get closer to him, and there’s only one other thing that can go at this point. 

She starts to scramble off his lap and he lets go quickly, although there’s a grunt of surprise from him that she’s pleased to hear has a note of dismay to it as well. Keeping her eyes carefully angled up, she slips her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear and slides them down her legs, stepping out of them and nearly tripping in her rush. In another one of his surprising displays of civility, when half a second before she’s fairly certain he was saying something filthy to her, Mando reaches out to steady her before she can take a spill onto the deck. 

She takes his outstretched arm and she’s shocked to find skin rather than rough duraweave or metal. He’s taken his vambraces off too, and either pushed or rolled his sleeves up. Unable to resist, she reaches her other hand out to him and he must know what she’s going for because he takes her other hand. 

Keeping her touch light, almost a little afraid that she’ll spook him, she draws her fingers over his knuckles and down underneath the smooth skin of his wrists. Obligingly, he turns his hands over and lets her trace the tendons that run along the inside of his arm until she meets coarse fabric near his elbow. She trails back up to his wrists a few times, fixated on the evidence of a living, breathing being under her fingers. His skin isn’t as smooth as she’d first thought, it’s interrupted here and there with indented lines and in one place, what feels like a jagged starburst near the outside of his left arm, about halfway up from his wrist. 

“ _Luubid_.” He sounds as if he can’t catch his breath as he turns his hands over again, large hands capturing each of her wrists and drawing her back into his lap. “ _Ne chayaikir, ner_ _naak’ika, ni copaani gar gebi_. _Copaani gar aalar._ ” 

She can't understand him but the gist is clear in his movements. He’s rougher now, taking more control himself, and she’s happy to let him take over, still reeling slightly from the intimate moment. He settles her back over him and spreads his knees more, edging her own out further so she sits flush against him. His hands control the pace and she feels his hips rise a bit each time he pulls her down against the hard length of him through the canvas of his trousers. She reaches a hand behind him to brace herself on the wall, and he leans back against the metal surface to find some leverage. 

Closing her eyes, she focuses on the coil tightening in her belly as he drags her bare center over where his cock strains under the fabric of his trousers. His breath stutters more frequently now, and little words fall from his modulator in a mix of Basic and whatever else he’s speaking, as if he’s incapable of telling one from the other right now. 

His grip on her hips increases to an almost painful degree, but she brings her other hand over one of his and presses down hard, urging him to hold tighter. If she can’t see his fingers physically on her right now, she at least wants to be able to see the marks they leave behind later, and know that this whole thing isn’t a dream. 

As the tension builds further and her thighs twitch, she buries her face into the soft fabric between his neck and shoulder, and bites down to muffle her moans. Mando tilts his head to one side to allow her to turn her face into his neck and she mouths at the thinner fabric of his cowl, dragging it down unintentionally.

It’s the change in texture under her lips, the taste of something warm and soft and so fucking human that it sends her over the edge. Squeezing her eyes shut even tighter, she noses the fabric down further and sinks her teeth into a tendon in his neck, sucking hard at the exposed skin there as her walls clench down on nothing. 

Mando makes a choked sound halfway between a groan and a yell, and his hips jerk hard into hers as he pulls her down and holds her there, his other arm encircling her back to pin her to him as he shudders his release under her. She can feel how slick she is, and right now she’d give anything to have nothing between them. She tells herself the wetness at the corners of her eyes is from her orgasm, and not from wanting something she can’t have. 

He continues to clutch her as if she’ll fall away if he eases up even a millimeter, and she soothes her tongue over the skin she’s just bitten and up to where the helmet cuts him off from her. It feels like it’s just under his ear, and she nips lightly at the spot, drawing another choked sound from the Mandalorian beneath her. 

They’re both panting and he’s still got one arm like an iron bar around her back as she kisses what she can reach of his neck, shoving the fabric further down as she can. Using her hands feels too obvious, too close to trying to get a look, and she so desperately wants to keep the trust he’s shown in her, so she makes do with her nose and mouth. She still manages to uncover warm skin and patchy stubble and a pulse that’s beating fast and hard, and it almost feels more indecent than the mess they’ve both made below. 

She comes to rest with her lips pressed back over the spot she’d bitten down on, feeling his pulse start to slow and his arms relax fractionally around her. His hands move slowly over her again, but this time the touch feels almost lazy. Indulgent, in an entirely different way than he’d touched her before. She hears him let out a long, contented sigh as his helmet rests back against the wall with a light ‘thunk’, and she snuggles in a little closer. 

_Overall_ , she thinks, _very relaxing_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Ni copaani haat’taylir an gar, cyar’ika - I want to see all of you, sweetheart  
> Luubid - Enough  
> Ne chayaikir, ner naak’ika, ni copaani gar gebi. - No more teasing  
> Naak'ika - lit. "little peace"  
> Ni copaani gar gebi - I want you close.  
> Copaani gar aalar - Want to feel you.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said above, if you're interested in more from these two let me know in the comments :)
> 
>  _mesh'la_ \- beautiful  
>  _cyar'ika_ \- sweetheart, darling  
>  _osik_ \- shit


End file.
